


in and out your lips

by castielanderson



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: (as in connor's canon past), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Borderline Personality Disorder, Bottom Connor, M/M, Statutory Rape, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: Written for the 2016 Coliver Secret Santa Exchange.  The missing scene in 3x07, between Connor and Oliver taking their clothes off and Michaela and Asher walking through the door.





	

For weeks now, all Connor wanted was Oliver on top of him.  Now he’s got his wish and he feels absurdly strange about this.  Connor tastes and smells and breathes in the scent of alcohol off Oliver’s skin.  He freezes, slacking his hands from where they’ve been pressed against Oliver’s neck.  Oliver looks down at him through hazy eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“N - nothing,” Connor says.  “I just - are you sure about this?  You’re - you’re pretty wasted, Oliver.  And I’m pretty sober.”

Oliver’s weight drops a little, his waist settling between Connor’s legs.  Connor grunts, eyes wide.

“I’ve missed you, Connor,” Oliver breathes.  “I want this.  Have been wanting this.  The alcohol just gave me that final push, you know?  I’m not gonna regret this, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Connor tries to smile, but it feels painful.  He lets Oliver kiss him for another minute before pulling back again.

“Michaela thinks I use sex to cope,” he blurts.

Oliver groans.  “Michaela isn’t here, Connor.”  He dips down to kiss Connor’s neck.  Connor lets him.

“She thinks it’s a problem.”

“Do you think it’s a problem?” Oliver asks through his panting.

“No, I just - “

“Oh, my god.  You never talk this much.  Shut up.”

“Ollie.”  Connor pushes, half-assed, against Oliver’s chest.

“Whaaaaat?”

Connor sighs.  “I just don’t want this to be a problem for you.  You know, you’ve just been through something pretty rough, and - “

Oliver sinks down again, leaving only a centimeter of space between their faces.  “It’s not going to be a problem for me.”  He closes the space between them and hums against Connor’s lips.  “Do you want this, Connor?”

Connor swallows hard.  “Y - yeah.”

Oliver inhales heavily and kisses Connor with force.  Connor responds by taking Oliver’s bottom lip between his teeth.  He bites down and sucks, slowly, slowly letting Oliver free.  Oliver groans and fists the hair at the back of Connor’s head.  Pushing himself up onto his left elbow, Connor bucks his hips up and grinds against Oliver.

“You’re killing me,” Oliver huffs.  Connor grins against his mouth.

Oliver’s hands scramble to Connor’s underwear.  His fingers are clumsy as he pulls at them, dragging them down Connor’s legs.  After a minute of struggling, Connor helps him along by kicking them off.  With a rabid look in his eye, Oliver surges forward and kisses Connor again, edging his jaw and forcing him to open his mouth.  He dips his tongue inside Connor’s, running it along the backside of Connor’s teeth.  He can feel Connor’s leaking, naked cock pushing against his stomach.  He pulls his lips from Connor’s and Connor gives a small whine.  Oliver snickers as he trails kisses along Connor’s jaw and down his neck.  He stops where Connor’s neck meets his collarbone and sucks.

“Oh my god,” Connor chokes.

“Patience,” Oliver says.

Satisfied with the mark he’s left, Oliver continues to move.  He kisses the muscle of Connor’s chest and lets his tongue trail along the skin of his abdomen.  He stops just above Connor’s cock and breathes.

“I’m dying here,” Connor rasps.

Oliver presses a kiss to the head of Connor’s cock before making a show of licking the pre-cum spilling from his slit.  Connor can’t help but buck his hips a little. Oliver pulls up and shoots Connor a warning glance as he slams his hands on Connor’s hips, pinning him down.  Connor whimpers.  Smiling to himself, Oliver dips down and takes Connor’s head into his mouth.  Connor lets out a shuddering breath.  Oliver moves slowly, pressing his tongue firm against Connor’s length as he takes the rest of him.  Once he reaches Connor’s base, he begins to drag his lips back up.

“Oh my god, I am going to come of you keep teasing me like this.”

Oliver looks up and meets his eyes as he lets Connor go with pop.

“Did you miss my mouth?” Oliver teases.

“I missed all of you.”  Connor grits his teeth and pushes himself up.  He throws his arms around Oliver’s neck and starts kissing him again, biting and sucking on whatever he can get into his mouth.  He pulls away for just a second to breathe, “I need you to fuck me, Ollie,” and digs his hand down the front of Oliver’s underwear.  Oliver yelps.  He doesn’t waste a second in shedding his briefs.  Connor’s fingers tease his balls, and Oliver goes weak.  After a moment, he grabs Connor’s wrist.

“I’m in charge,” he growls, and shoves Connor back against the bed.  Connor groans as Oliver settles himself on top of him.  They fall into a rhythm of kissing and Oliver reaches down to press a hand between Connor’s split legs.  He grabs Connor’s ass and spreads him just a little before gingerly pressing a finger inside him.  Connor’s breath hitches.

“Fuck,” he hisses.  “Oh, god.  Keep going.”

Oliver massages the muscle a minute more before inserting a second finger.  Slowly, carefully, he begins moving his fingers in rhythm.  Connor pulls his mouth from Oliver’s and breathes heavily.  

“There’s - there’s lube in the bottom drawer.  Cherry flavored,” he adds with a labored laugh.

Oliver attempts to keep one hand inside Connor and reach across himself to grab the lube, but it’s too hard.  He pulls out of Connor and hurries to grab the lube, shifting things around as he looks for a condom too.

“Connor,” he says.  “I don’t see any condoms.”

“I’m still taking PrEP,” Connor huffs.  “It’s fine.”

Oliver stares at him for a second, surprised.

“What?” Connor asks.

Oliver shakes his head.  “Nothing.”

Connor smirks.  “You didn’t think I’d stay responsible?”

Oliver shrugs.  “We aren’t dating anymore.”

Connor nods.  “But I still - we both know I’m kind of reckless with sex.  I already had the PrEP, so I just kept taking it.  Still haven’t really used condoms, though.”

Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily.  “At least you’re taking PrEP.”

“Oliver,” Connor groans.  “I still need you to fuck me.”

Oliver rolls his eyes but does proceed to squirt lube into his hand.  He spreads it over himself in a rush, wincing as the touch stimulates him even further.  He tosses the tube to the floor and presses his lubed-up fingers back inside Connor for a moment.

Connor’s body jerks.  “Ah - “

“You ready?”

“Please, Oliver.  Please, please.”

Oliver squares himself between Connor’s legs.  He teases Connor’s hole with the tip of his cock, smearing his pre-cum around Connor’s entrance.  He feels a twinge of anxiety without a condom, but he shoos it away.  He pushes forward and Connor opens up easily.  Both of them let out a groan.

“Oh my god, you feel so good, Ollie,” Connor mumbles.  “Holy shit.”

Oliver would have to agree.  Feeling Connor’s warmth around his cock has him crazy.  He grabs Connor’s hips and begins shifting his weight, thrusting slowly into Connor.  Connor whines and bites his lip.

“Faster, please” he rasps.  “You can go harder, too.”

Oliver chooses to build up, continuing slow but adding speed.  The faster he goes the harder grips Connor’s hips, until he knows there’ll be bruises in the morning.  Connor continues to whine, letting out small noises every time Oliver pushes into him.

“Ollie, fuck.”

Oliver thrusts faster and harder.  His balls slap against Connor’s ass and the wetness of his cum produces a squelching noise as he moves back and forth.  Connor fists the sheets and Oliver grips his hips tighter.  He bites down hard on his lip, urging his body to keep going.  He’s coming close, but he wants to wait it out for Connor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Connor hisses.  

Oliver’s thighs are starting to burn.  He shifts his weight slightly, and Connor cries out.

“Holy shit - that - right there, Ollie - oh my god.”

Apparently, he’s found the tender spot of Connor’s prostate.  He eases his grip on Connor’s hips and lowers his body flush against Connor’s. Connor’s cock is straining against his stomach, deliciously red and warm.

“Oliver - “ he all but shouts.

Oliver slams himself as hard as he can inside Connor, keeping the angle that’s currently making him scream.  He can’t hold on much longer.  Thankfully, Connor arches his back a second later, shouting as he comes hard, bursts of his cum trailing up his chest and Oliver’s.  Oliver keeps thrusting, driving himself to his own orgasm.  He comes inside Connor, filling him until semen begins to drip from Connor’s ass.  Oliver pulls out and collapses beside him.  They lie next to each other, panting hard.

After a couple of minutes, Oliver says, “I think the whole building heard you.”

Connor slaps a lazy hand against Oliver’s chest.  “Shut up.”

Oliver gives a breathy laugh.

Connor groans, looking down at himself.  “Shit, we have to clean this mess up before Michaela gets home.”

.

Oliver’s starting to sober up by the time Michaela and Asher disappear into the bedroom.  They look at each other and bite their lips, waiting for Michaela to notice.

“Connor, why is my duvet upside down?”

They dissolve into laughter.  She doesn’t come out, but they do hear her arguing with Asher.  It sounds like he doesn’t care at all about the duvet, but would rather just get underneath it.  When things quiet down, Michaela pokes her head out of the door, and she’s definitely only wearing a bra.

“You’ll pay for this later,” she promises.

Connor rolls over and curls into the couch, facing Oliver.  He can’t stop smiling.

“She is talking about the fact that we had sex on her bed, right?” Oliver asks.  “Not that we had sex in general?”

Connor rolls his eyes.  “She definitely only cares about her bed.”  He reaches down and traces circles along Oliver’s thigh.  “Although she probably will reprimand me.  She probably thinks I’m being self-destructive.”

Oliver winces.  “Are you?  Is this - ?”

“You aren’t,” Connor says without looking up.  “Not for me.  You’re the opposite.”

Oliver tenses.  “Then why - ?”

“She just worries about me.  Worries about what I’ll do when this doesn’t end in us getting back together.”

“What will you do?”

Connor shrugs.

A lull of silence follows, and Oliver grabs Connor’s hand, the one that’s still on his thigh.

“Connor.”

“What?” he asks, feigning a smile.  

“Why is Michaela worried about you being self-destructive?”

Connor shrugs again, and doesn’t meet Oliver’s eyes.  “I mean - I am.  You know that.”

Oliver rubs his thumb across the soft skin of Connors palm.  

“I do use sex to cope, I just don’t think it’s a problem.  It makes me feel good, so why shouldn’t I?”

“It’s not the healthiest option,” Oliver mumbles.

Connor scoffs a laugh.  “Yeah.  Michaela thinks it’s because I’m - damaged, or whatever.  She thinks it’s because I was ‘raped.’”

Connor uses air quotes, but it doesn’t do anything to help the dread that fills Oliver’s veins.  His thumb stops moving and he looks up to meet Connor’s eyes.

“Were you - ?” he voice is no louder than a whisper.

“Did you miss the way I said that?” Connor asks, voice coming out a little harsh.  “No, Oliver.  I wasn’t.  Michaela thinks that just because I lost my virginity to an eighteen-year-old when I was fourteen, that that qualifies as rape.  Personally, I was living the dream.”

Oliver considers saying something, because he definitely thinks Michaela has a point, but he doesn’t.  He just pulls Connor’s hand up to his lips and kisses his knuckles.

“Don’t listen to her,” he says.  “Just have faith in yourself.”

Connor smiles, honest this time.  “Don’t be a sap.”

“You can say ‘no’ to me, you know,” Oliver teases.

Connor leans down and kisses him roughly for a second.  “Yeah, but I didn’t want to.”  He smiles as Oliver brushes the hair from his eyes, but it doesn’t quite reach his ears.  Oliver cocks his head.

“You’re still thinking,” he accuses.

Connor sighs.  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking too much lately.  Distract me.”  He ducks down again, but Oliver resists.

“No, talk to me,” Oliver presses.  Connor whines.  “Come on, I came over inebriated and bared my soul to you.”

“Yeah, and your body,” Connor mumbles, but he shifts his weight so he’s more upright, facing Oliver rather than hovering over him.  “Do you really wanna hear about my past relationships right now, after he had sex while broken up?”

“Yeah, if it’s bothering you.”

Connor side-eyes him.  “Whatever.  It’s just that Michaela isn’t the only one who thinks I have problem.  She’s just that latest, and because she keeps bugging me about it, I’ve been having a small internal, existential crisis.”

“You need to vent?” Oliver asks.  “Talk shit?”

“If you really want to go down that road.”

Oliver holds up a palm.  “Go for it.”

“I’m just thinking about all the shitty people in my life,” Connor huffs.  Oliver tenses slightly, really hopeful he’s not counted among them.  “Like Aiden.  God, I hate him.  Glad Michaela hates him too.”  Connor makes a pouty noise as Oliver rubs his upper arm.

“Why do you hate him, Con?  Other than the fact that he’s your ex?”

“He’s not just an ex, Oliver.  He’s like, a super-ex.  He was nasty to me when we broke up.”

“Why?”

“I mean - “ Connor hesitates, and abruptly buries his face in the couch cushions.  “I’ve changed my mind.  I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Oliver pokes him.  “Oh my god, Connor.  I just had my dick in you, but you won’t tell me why you hate your ex?”

Connor snickers and sits up straight again.  “Yeah, well - I guess that was my problem with Aiden.  Every time we got into a fight - which was a lot - I just wanted to fuck.  Figured sex could solve all of our problems, but Aiden didn’t agree, so he broke up with me.  But I was really clingy.”

“Wow, I can’t imagine that,” Oliver says, sarcastic.

Connor shoots him glare.  “Anyway, I kept trying to change his mind and once I said I wanted to hurt myself - well, that set him off.  He pretty much loathes me now.”  He sinks into the couch and crosses his arms.  Oliver doesn’t look at him.  “He told Michaela some shit, apparently, about how I’m a sex addict and crazy because I felt suicidal after we broke up, but come on - I was sixteen.  I didn’t know how to deal with my emotions.  And everything was fine after a few weeks.”

They fall into silence again before Oliver clears his throat.  “I’m sorry, Connor.”

“It’s fine,” Connor says, curling toward Oliver once again.  “I just don’t like people thinking I’m broken or something.”

“You’re not broken,” Oliver says.  “And - and just because we aren’t dating doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, you know.”

“I know,” Connor says with a half smile.  “I still care about you too, Ollie.”  
It’s Oliver who leans in this time, pressing his lips softly to Connor’s.


End file.
